


Save us from eternity

by akaashook



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Falling In Love, Forgive him, Gods AU, Kinda, M/M, Metaphors, Osamu was a god too but he fell in love with a mortal, PLATONIC SAKUATSUKITA, Rain, Sad Miya Atsumu, Slow Burn, but not really, demisexual atsumu, he needs time to process it, in caps lock cause they are important, is that even a thing? idk, moon god Sakusa, more like existential yearning, mortality/immortality contrast, no literally all sakusa does is pine, pining sakusa, sexual content but nothing explicit, sun god Atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaashook/pseuds/akaashook
Summary: He turned to Sakusa.Sakusa tilted his head.Atsumu contemplated the arch of his mouth, his long, dark eyelashes, his hair disheveled by the breeze.I don’t want to forget, he thought just before disappearing.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 38
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go again with another sakuatsu fic, I formally asked those two clowns to leave my head and they, once again, told me "No xoxo"  
> I wanted this to be about the conflict between mortality and immortality, memories and the lack of them, an empty chest finding its way to be whole again.
> 
> ((the title comes from the song Entropy by End of Silence))  
> ((English is not my first language so please forgive any mistakes))
> 
> I hope you enjoy this product of sleep deprivation, multiple existential crises and procrastination ahah

The sun was setting beyond the line that separates the realm of light and that of shadows.

It was setting alone.

It would have been a moonless night.

At that moment the major gods were gathered in council. Within a few hours they would find a replacement, someone to give the night to.

Atsumu didn’t want to, couldn't, participate. Why should he? It didn’t matter who would take his place, because without Osamu the sky would no longer be the same, the moon would not shine in the same way.

_Samu_ , he thought, _why did you choose a mortal?_

Atsumu was standing on a deserted beach somewhere on the shores of the cosmos. In front of him the colors of day mingled on a palette of infinity, generating shades to which humans wouldn’t be able to assign a name. In front of him, sea waves embraced the coast, merging in a kiss of sand and salt. Before him, the last ray of sun drowned beyond the confines of the earth.

And the world mourned the moon.

The wind groaned with pain.

Darkness swallowed up life.

And Atsumu said farewell.

…

From the very beginning of their short existence, mortals had associated dawn with new beginnings. Atsumu had never understood this comparison. After all, gods don’t have a date of birth and one of expiration, gods were, are, and will always be (unless they decide not to be, unless they fall). 

Immortals didn’t really need to breathe, but they could.

Immortals didn’t really need to sleep, but they could. 

Immortals didn’t really need to understand mortals, but they could.

And that day Atsumu decided to understand.

There is something unique about the first breath of the morning, something that differentiates it from the breaths taken unconsciously during sleep, in the same way waking up and opening your eyes are two completely different concepts, they travel on parallel lines and that meet only when a mortal realizes what it means to be alive.

For humans, waking up means to be born again every day.

That day, for Atsumu, waking up meant comprehending how not even timeless creatures like gods could escape the flow of time. Because when he decided to open his eyes and point them upwards, he noticed that the abyss of darkness that the sky was supposed to be…was alive.

And the world was asleep. 

The clouds were having fun dancing with the stars. 

The moon was shining. 

And Atsumu had work to do. 

... 

The sun was rising beyond the line that separates the realm of warmth from that of cold. 

But the difference between the two is thin when you can’t feel them. 

"So it’s you?" 

"Yes" 

"Why?" 

There was no bitterness in his tone, there could have been, there should have been, but Atsumu had nothing to offer but indifference.

"Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting it" 

Atsumu turned to look at him.

Sakusa wore the night in the same way Atsumu wore the colors of morning, his skin had the same shades of moonlight, his eyes were black, pools of oblivion in which any mortal would get lost, risking drowning, and they were surrounded by an equally dark eyeliner that helped sharpen his features. Many deities were afraid to cut themselves. 

Not Atsumu, his chest was already bleeding. 

"Why you?" 

"Because I was the most suitable one" 

For centuries Sakusa had been a minor god, he had reigned over darkness, shadows, terror. The passage to light had changed him, his colors were different, the moon had welcomed him in the same way it had once welcomed his brother.

Atsumu looked up at the sky, seeing that that little white celestial body was slowly fading away, and with it also the god before him, dissolving like the spectre of the night, dematerializing like the most distant stars. 

"He made his choice. Don’t you think the least you can do for him is respect it?" 

"Shut up" he whispered. Because it wasn’t the right time to talk about it, it would never be. Because there was no need to shout, not with someone like Sakusa, someone who understood the value of silence. 

Atsumu wasn't mad at him. It wasn’t his fault. But it wasn’t Osamu’s fault either, right? Then maybe it was Atsumu’s. For letting his brother escape as the wind escapes between fingers, for being unable to accept that Osamu had wishes that were not compatible with eternity.

Sakusa said nothing. Atsumu did not turn to see if he was still there, his eyes were too busy getting lost beyond the horizon, where a part of his essence was concentrated. 

The first ray of sun was red, just as, a short time ago, the last ray of moon had been. 

... 

They met at the beach. 

Every day. Twice. 

Sunrise and sunset. 

A new beginning and a new end. 

"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?" 

"No" 

Atsumu kept asking him every time, and every time the answer was a monosyllable indicating rejection.

Sakusa couldn't understand why Atsumu kept asking him. He initially thought it was part of his routine, a ritual he had performed for centuries together with his brother. But it was impossible for someone like Atsumu to share such a significant moment of his existence with him, wasn't it? 

If Sakusa were him, he wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t want to contaminate the memory of someone so important to him. 

It was clear that Atsumu was still clinging to the past, with the same tenacity with which humans cling to the hope that tomorrow can offer them. 

The sun symbolizes that hope. But even the sun needs dreams to feed on.

It needs balance. A balance that only the moon can give. But when every certainty shatters, when dreams turn into nightmares, when the ground under your feet begins to dance, it is difficult to adapt to what becomes your new daily life. 

Atsumu needed time. 

And Sakusa was ready to wait. 

After all, the moon had not rejected him. But it hadn't even embraced him in the same way its threads of light had intertwined with Osamu’s soul. 

Sakusa knew he wasn’t just a substitute. Now he was the moon. He was the night. He was the sky full of stars. 

Sakusa was enough to maintain the order of the cosmos.

But he would never be enough to fill the emptiness in Atsumu’s irises. 

And that’s why he couldn’t say yes to him. 

... 

Little by little the taut lines of their lips had become slightly raised corners. 

Atsumu wasn’t angry, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t tired. Sakusa’s company was no longer a thorn, a burden that his shoulders and chest had to carry with resentment. The other god was a silent and quiet presence at his side, although he stood out in a different way than his brother: when Osamu's moon shone, people wanted to drink at the spring of its light; when Sakusa's moon was high in the sky, it shone as if it wanted to remind humans how far it was from them, how unattainable infinity was.

Atsumu would never get used to this change, but he was trying, he was trying everything he could. 

After all, that was the beauty of stars, it was that that fascinated mortals more than anything else: the caress of the unreachable, longing for impossible. 

"You know, Omi-kun, everyone loves ya" he said one day "they can relax and they feel free to be themselves with you" his tone was a stream of melancholy. 

Sakusa stared at his face somewhere between Atsumu’s nose and forehead. 

"You are really stupid, you know?" 

Atsumu tilted his head "What?" 

"They sleep waiting for you to come. They love _you_ " 

"Omi-kun" a pause "they can’t even look me in the eye. Ya know what they say? ‘Don't look at the sun or you'll go blind’ and also ‘don't get too close to the sun or you might end up getting burned’" his smile had a sad taste on his mouth.

"You give them hope. I only bring fear"

It was at that moment that Atsumu noticed it: Sakusa’s eyes were supposed to be as black as oblivion. But they were actually a green as dark as it was deep, an intense and seductive color, mysterious and alive. And if Atsumu had come any closer, he would have caught a glimpse of pure, palpitating violet brushstrokes. 

Those were the eyes of the night. 

_They are beautiful_ , it was Atsumu’s first and last thought, before seeing them vanish. 

That day the first ray of sun had the same color as a prairie at midnight.

…

It happened often that Sakusa turned a fleeting glance in the direction of the god of the sun. 

That morning he saw how the faint light of dawn reflected on his cheeks, emphasizing the constellations of freckles on his tanned skin. He noticed how the wind delighted in twisting among the blond locks of his hair, how it played with the folds of his red robe, the same color of the eyeliner that surrounded his golden eyes. 

Sakusa knew where they were looking. 

Osamu. 

Sakusa had never had a chance to meet him, but Atsumu had talked about him so much that he was under the impression he really knew him. 

"Is he sleeping?" he asked.

"Yes" Atsumu replied with a slight smile, "He has always liked to sleep. I never understood why" 

"Is he with him?" 

"Yes" 

Sakusa followed Atsumu’s gaze towards the earth and was able to distinguish two embraced figures on a bed full of cushions and affection. Their chests rose and fell slowly, their limbs were tangled together and their faces were serene, as if they had all the time in the world, as if eternity could do nothing against the flame that fused their souls together. 

_Is that what they call love?_

"He looks happy" 

"He is" 

"You’re not" 

"It doesn't matter" 

"It should"

When Atsumu turned his head to observe him, Sakusa caught an echo of what could have been a smile on his lips. 

But can you really call it a smile if it draws from a source that is not that of happiness? 

Would humans be able to create a word to describe those moments when the corners of the mouth are pointing up, but the pupils can only look down? 

Mortals liked to sculpt stone beings and call them gods. In fact, the two were very similar: cold, detached, immortalized inside the shell of time. 

But there was one thing that Sakusa had noticed in many statues: their eyes were empty.

This too was a characteristic in common with the gods. Fire burns only in the eyes of those who understand the value of beginnings and ends. After all, fire is born to be extinguished, souls come to light to fade, flowers sprout to wither. 

And mortals live to die. 

And this awareness of death is their fuel, their firewood to be able to create. 

Art is something so profoundly human.

Art is the only way that allows finite creatures to get closer to infinity. 

Sakusa imagined that tragedy was a form of art too. 

And Atsumu was a statue: his smile never reached his irises.

...

"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"

"No"

…

"Wanna go for a walk?" Atsumu proposed. 

"Okay" 

And they walked, for as long as they could, they went forward and forward and forward and, from time to time, they looked back, even if it wasn’t necessary. 

Immortals don’t need memories. 

After all, living forever means seeing the past writhing in front of you until it becomes what it never was, a lie. 

After all, living forever meant forgetting. 

The beach was the most suitable example: no matter how many footprints we leave on the sand, the sea will always come to swallow them and everything will return as before, our passage will be deleted, it won't mean anything. We will become particles of oblivion.

Sometimes not even eternity can escape the rules of matter. 

Sometimes every trace of us is eliminated. And there'll be nothing left of us. 

The sea knew how to be cruel. But the view was breathtaking. 

Maybe it was better to keep some memories. 

Fighting the armies of time to keep them safe. 

This was what Atsumu thought as his bare feet sank into the wet sand, as he watched the lazy waves of the evening break on the shoreline and remove every sign of him and the god at his side.

He took another look at the earth, where his brother was cooking some rice dish, the man who had brought a light different from that of the moon on his face was behind him, his arms encircled his waist, His fingers drew figures on Osamu’s skin, his dark hair tickled his neck. 

And Atsumu knew that his memories had been erased and replaced with illusions of a life that had never been lived, he knew that Osamu had forgotten about him, but he couldn't help but wonder if sometimes his brother, too, felt the abyss that was expanding, fracturing the tissues of his soul, if even his mortal bones felt the cold of an absence, if even his eyes rose to the night sky just to understand that the moon wasn't what it used to be.

But the answer to these questions would remain buried in the line of ashes and dust that separated perennial from temporary. 

Because, if the wind blows in another direction, it doesn't cease to be wind. 

Because, if the light changes color, it doesn't cease to be light. 

Because, if the moon shines differently, it doesn't cease to be the moon. 

He turned to Sakusa. 

Sakusa tilted his head. 

Atsumu contemplated the arch of his mouth, his long, dark eyelashes, his hair disheveled by the breeze. 

_I don’t want to forget_ , he thought just before disappearing.

…

"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?"

"No"

…

Atsumu couldn't visit his brother. 

Among all the gifts the gods had, metamorphosis was not one of them. And it was strictly forbidden to confess to a mortal the truth about gods. So, unless Osamu didn't know what a mirror was, it was impossible for his twin brother to show up in front of him. 

Once Atsumu had asked Sakusa to help him. And, after days of enduring his demands and whining, Sakusa had descended to earth. 

"He said he thinks about the moon sometimes" Atsumu urged him to continue. 

"He said the night is not the same anymore"

Atsumu’s face lit up for a few fleeting moments, Sakusa clearly saw the threads of hope stitching the scars that had opened in his irises. 

Atsumu’s eyes were of the same colors as the shades of dawn: molten brown, with golden touches in the outermost circle, which surrounded them as the rays of light embraced the sun. Sakusa just had to slightly tilt his head to see some green reflections around the pupil and, when he blinked, he noticed the grey grains that swam inside them. 

But that moment was as magnificent as it was ephemeral. 

Because Atsumu knew that the memory of a memory is not always honest.

Because the distance that separates the sun from the earth cannot be diminished.

And because sometimes the moon stood between the two. 

That’s what Sakusa was: an obstacle. 

He lowered his gaze. 

But Atsumu would have to deal with it. And that’s what he was going to tell him when he was suddenly interrupted before he could open his mouth. 

"Omi-kun" 

Sakusa felt a light touch on his cheek. 

"There’s nothing wrong with you" 

Sakusa knew that he didn’t need Atsumu’s approval, but he realized that, all this time, he had held his breath. He exhaled. 

"I know" he said. 

"Don’t touch me," he added after a while, driving Atsumu’s hand away. Trying to ignore its warmth.

Atsumu chuckled and raised his arms "What are you afraid of? The germs I can’t pass you because, clearly, gods don’t get sick?" 

Sakusa nudged at him. 

Maybe there was still hope. 

... 

"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?" 

"Why do you always ask?" 

"I don’t know, I like to believe that one day ya will say yes" 

"And what will you do when, hypothetically, I will say yes?" 

"Swim with ya, I guess"

…

Several times Atsumu had visited the earth. 

He always went to places as close as possible to those where he had seen his brother. He approached Osamu’s friends' friends. He explored life on earth and the habits of mortals. 

In particular, he spent a lot of time with Kita Shinsuke, a man with a sincere smile and kind eyes. Every now and then Atsumu was certain that they could see through the illusion of the flesh and into the impalpable particles that made up his being. 

There were mortals like him. Endowed with a view beyond matter. But that didn't make Kita any less special.

_I think I could fall in love with him_ , he thought every time Kita handed him a cup of tea prepared with the same meticulousness that he reserved for his fields (which he reserved for everything). 

_I want to fall in love with him_ , he thought when he watched him reap the fruits of months of work with the same smile with which he contemplated the sky. 

_I wish I could fall in love with him_ , he thought when Kita accompanied him to the door of his house, wishing him good night, ruffling his hair with the same hands with which, in his own way, he created miracles. 

But his eyes always went back to the moon.

"Ya know, Omi-kun, you’re pretty arrogant" he said as he observed the night while lying on the sand. 

He observed Sakusa’s forehead wrinkling and his facial features contorting in a confused and deadly expression at the same time "What do you mean?" 

Atsumu pointed up "Ya want the sky all to yourself, and you let the stars accompany you to have witnesses of yer greatness, you enjoy showing everyone what they can’t have" 

"Is that really how you see me?" a deep voice asked somewhere at his left. At some point Sakusa must have sat down. He must have missed it. 

Atsumu shrugged his shoulders, hoping that Sakusa would settle for his silence.

"You are too, you know?" he finally replied. 

Atsumu could have denied it. But he wanted to know "Why?" 

"You like to be the only one to rule the sky, you don’t let anyone near you" 

"How much longer are you going to lie to yourself?" 

"How much longer are you going to hide inside your wounds?" 

But before Atsumu could open his mouth to answer, Sakusa disappeared. 

Leaving him alone with one more question to bury. 

... 

"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?" 

"Maybe next time" 

It wasn’t a no, it wasn’t a yes. 

It was the thin thread that separates truth from falsehood, order and confusion, sunset and dawn and the night between the two. 

It had the potential to be the beginning of a new era.

…

But it never would have been. 

Because, that evening, Sakusa saw Kita Shinsuke accompany Atsumu to the door of his house, saw him smiling as he kissed his cheek gently, saw Atsumu’s shoulders stiff and relax, his eyes falling closed at the contact with the lips of that human who succeeded, even for a few moments, to relieve his pain. 

He thought maybe there would never be a next time. 

"What’s the matter, Omi-Omi?" asked Bokuto, the god of stars, to his right. 

"I think I just got burned."

…

Atsumu didn’t believe in love. 

It was connected to the essence of mortality. 

Someone like him could never understand.

But eventually, whatever was between Kita Shinsuke and him was enough for him to give eternal life up. 

Atsumu didn't think he loved him, not in the romantic sense of the word at least. 

That morning no one would have witnessed dawn. 

And black clouds would envelop the world in an embrace of tears. 

It was with rain that the gods would cover the sky waiting for a new sun. 

And it was in the rain that Sakusa and Atsumu met for the last time.

They weren't on the beach. No. That place was still pure and uncorrupted by the weight of goodbyes. And Atsumu wanted it to remain so. 

They were in the middle of ruins. Broken trunks of ancient columns, high arches and pieces of stairs that got interrupted in all the wrong places. 

"D'ya know, Omi-kun, why humans like ruins so much?" 

"So they can earn a lot of money out of them" Sakusa replied in a flat tone. His eyes were a mirror image of the storm on their heads. 

"That too. But there’s another reason"

Sakusa waited patiently for him to go on. Atsumu wondered if he, too, had begun to count the seconds of silence between them, the moments that let the irregular ticking of raindrops speak.

They were gods. They didn't need to feel either the cold or the water on their skin, they didn't need to scream to be heard above the roar of the heights. 

That's why Atsumu whispered "It's the beauty of decadence, the grandeur of what is broken" 

For even ash has its dignity. 

Sakusa looked at him as if he didn't understand the point, but at the same time wanted to hear him speak forever (probably it was just his impression, he had always liked to delude himself to see what he wanted to see). 

Atsumu bit his lower lip. 

"Kiyoomi"

He saw the god of the moon batting his eyelashes, the sky's drops sliding on them, touching his face and creating extraordinary reflections on his diaphanous skin, caressing his lips. 

And he wanted to know- 

"Will you like me even when I’m broken?" 

He took a step forward. 

"Will you remember what I was?" 

He reached out a hand. 

"Will you visit me like mortals visit their ruins?" 

He brushed his fingers on the cheek of the same god who once told him not to touch.

And it was fine.

He knew it because Sakusa didn't push him away, because he let his fingers trace indistinct shapes on his jaw, he closed his eyes when Atsumu grazed the skin next to his ear, he breathed in slowly when he realized that the sun was playing with the locks of his hair as dark as night. 

_So unfair as our lives follow patterns, but our feelings don't._

Atsumu didn't want to forget. Not this. Not the way in which the corners of Sakusa’s mouth were slightly raised, not the principle of dimples that made his ageless face infinitely younger.

"You’re an idiot" Sakusa told him, but his voice was shattered and his tone sad. 

And Atsumu felt his arms trembling as they drew him to him. Sakusa was drawing him to himself. 

The moon’s embrace was much warmer than anyone could imagine. 

And Atsumu decided to dissolve into it. 

At least until Sakusa said "You’ll forget about your brother, too, did you even think about it?" 

Atsumu didn't let him go "We will meet again. One way or another, he and I always find the way back to each other" 

Sakusa made a sound of assent. 

And Atsumu didn't want to forget the sound of his voice, the green and purple hue of his eyes, the curve of a smile he had seen too few times. 

"Atsumu"

"Yeah?" his head was buried in the folds of Sakusa’s robe. 

"Ask me now. Ask me if I want to go for a swim with you" 

_You’re cruel_. 

"Why now?" 

"Because in any case you won’t remember the answer" 

_You’re really cruel._

Atsumu smiled. 

"Do you want to go for a swim, Omi-kun?" 

He observed Sakusa’s mouth open to form the first letter of a monosyllable that had the potential to create universes. 

But he dissolved before he could even grasp its vibration.

…

  
  
  
  


When, that night, Miya Atsumu startled awake in the bed he called his, the moon was shining red in the middle of a sky full of tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRRRR I thought, since I fhinished translating it, to post ch2 too ahah  
> In this chapter you can see pining idiots + KITA SHINSUKE: THE MYTH, THE LEGEND, THE ONLY MAN EVER (I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH) 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Just like the deities, statues had empty eyes. 

It wasn't a mistake or a forgetfulness. It was only pure sharp truth. 

If art is the path that humans chose to walk to reach infinity, then, thanks to that tiny detail, they had definitely taken a step forward. 

But there was another truth, a more subtle one, one that hides within the roots of Cosmos itself, that runs within the viscera of the earth as blood runs within human blood vessels. And men did not see it while it kept making fun of them, they didn’t hear its giggling, they had no idea that it could make the ground under their feet disappear at any moment.

For them infinity was something positive, a breath that fills your chest. 

If only they knew that the only oxygen infinity could offer was the one that lacked. 

If only they knew that living forever didn’t mean living at all. 

Those deluded didn't see the gift that had been granted them, too busy looking inside all the wrong places chasing the right choices. 

But the cruel truth that played hide and seek among the folds of the universe is that infinity is so empty that it gives the illusion of being full. 

And its light, as seductive as it was blinding, prevented mortals from seeing the shadows it projected. 

Sakusa knew this because he once ruled over those very shadows, keeping himself invisible and distant, locked inside his palace of darkness.

But the dark -just like the light, just like the eyes of statues- was empty. 

And Sakusa had started craving fire. 

Because if divine existence was limited by its own vastness, mortality was consumed like a candle. 

Gods were light, humans were fire. 

Some have so much that they have nothing. Others have enough to make them believe they have too little. 

But somehow between those two extremes a balance was created when the sun set and rose beyond the boundaries of earth, of being, of creation. Lines began to become blurred, walls to crumble, doors to open on an abyss full of undefined.

And that day the sun rose peacefully beyond the line that separates the realm of abundance and that of insufficiency. 

And that glow allowed Sakusa to see that, finally, Atsumu’s eyes were full of immense. 

... 

Sakusa began to understand. 

He often felt the need to sleep, to dream. He woke up wishing he could go back to bed, lulled by the gentle whispers of the wind, to continue living in a world where he had the power to create. In the dreamlike sphere that he had built, things like unexpected events and accidents never occurred, everything was controlled, everything went according to his plans. In a microcosmos that is not traceable within the margins of space and time no one needed numbers.

But, on that lone shore that erased every footprint of the past, Sakusa had begun to play with them. 

Five: the months since they said goodbye. 

Two: the weeks that Atsumu had taken to find his brother. 

Fifty-one: the times he had gone to the beach to watch the sunset (twenty-eight: to watch dawn). 

And gods didn’t care about numbers or seconds, but all Sakusa was capable of was counting. 

_ So this is how he felt... _

_ No _ . 

He corrected himself immediately. Atsumu had lost a brother, a  _ twin _ brother, someone with whom he had shared everything before he even existed. How long had Sakusa been with him? A few months? A year? Two? In those days he hadn't befriended numbers yet.

So what could Sakusa be for Atsumu if not a grain of sand that’s dispersed in the hourglass of oblivion? 

Atsumu didn't remember. That was a certainty. The moment he had forgotten had converted for Sakusa in the moment when time had begun to flow, his personal year zero. 

_ "Will you visit me like mortals visit their ruins?"  _

Atsumu wasn't a ruin. Atsumu hadn't succumbed to the lashes of time. 

Atsumu had fallen (not in love, but for love). 

All the other gods believed that the reason he became a creature of flame rather than one of light was Kita Shinsuke, but as days went by Sakusa had realized that it was not.

Osamu. It had always been Osamu. It was him who shaped the abyss in Atsumu’s chest, it was him the one Atsumu turned his eyes to when he looked down, it was him who occupied his mind when he stared at the horizon. 

Because Atsumu loved him in the same way you love the best part of yourself, with the same warmth of an embrace, with the same glow of the rays of a gentle moon. 

He loved him as you love a dear brother. 

_ Will you visit me?  _

One day spent on earth couldn’t hurt anyone, right? That’s what Sakusa kept repeating to himself, ignoring the alarm bells that his head kept ringing. 

Once. 

Just once. 

It wouldn’t have happened again.

  
  
  


But it happened again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And Sakusa lost count. 

All he could calculate were the seconds that separated him from the place that he had so much believed to despise. But the earth was not bad. The earth was alive, pulsating with colors that vibrated in a different way from those he was used to. The earth was full of flavors and noises and the wind blew with the knowledge that one day it would stop doing it. 

Because that’s what you live for. 

Because on earth once is never enough. 

Because Sakusa had never been so close to the sun. 

And now he could greedily absorb his warmth. And he wanted more and more and more.

…

The first time Sakusa had gone to visit Atsumu, he had materialized in the darkest corridor of a gym, he had worn sports clothes and, although it wasn't necessary, a mask (because the earth is full of sicknesses). 

Some of the first words Atsumu had addressed to him were "I don’t waste my time with scrubs" 

_ Bastard _ . Sakusa had smiled. 

But then they had trained together. And they both watched, they both learned. Sakusa felt on his skin the reason why Atsumu was so passionate about volleyball. 

Volleyball meant connection. Volleyball meant flying. Volleyball meant reaching out your hand and knowing that someone was ready to grab it.

And who could have understood those feelings better than Atsumu? 

And if Sakusa's wings risked melting close to the sun it was fine. 

Because he was no longer afraid to fall. 

... 

From that day on they met at the beach. 

The first time Sakusa appeared was just before sunset, pretending to be taking a walk. Atsumu recognized him. They had exchanged a few words (Atsumu had invited him to train with the team. Sakusa had said no. Then Atsumu had invited him to train with him. Sakusa had said yes). 

And that was it.

But it happened the next day too and the day after that and, at some point, it stopped being a "coincidence" and became a habit. 

They never made arrangements but, one way or another, they both knew the other would be there. 

They usually walked together. 

It was what they had been. What they were now. What they could be in the future. Wayfarers of life. 

And if, at times, it was incredible how the eternal and the ephemeral didn't understand each other, it was even more exceptional how they could get along. It was a subtle intertwining game that led them to their new (old?) routine. And to play it there was someone, or something, infinitely bigger than them. 

But two can’t dance if the rhythm is dictated by someone else.

Sakusa had built a character on foundations of falsehood, he had hidden himself under a veil of fog and dust. And breathing became harder and harder behind a mask made of ash.

There were truths that struggled in the dark ocean of his eyes, that desperately sought something to cling to in order to return to the surface, to remain alive. 

Because a god is by definition honesty. 

But Sakusa was becoming an actor, he only knew how to be a liar: he lied to Atsumu, lied to the moon, lied to the most sincere part of his heart. 

And his arms were tired of carrying the weight of his deepest desires.

For even desires are deceit. Mortals make them when a star falls from the sky. But in reality what they call falling stars are not really stars that fall, they are just other lies and lies and lies that the soul tells to itself to fill the void. 

Sakusa had never felt so human, crushed by the burden of longing. 

He wanted to understand the meaning of freedom, he wanted to stop being a statue, he wanted... Miya Atsumu. 

He wanted more time. 

He needed it every time he saw those brown and golden eyes and all of their shades, he craved it when the sun's brush dyed Atsumu’s cheeks a color similar to that of life, highlighting his adorable freckles, tried to grab it when the bow of his lips notched his most beautiful smile.

Since when had Sakusa started chasing what he couldn't have? 

"Ya know, there’s no need to think about it that much" Kita Shinsuke said while taking a sip of his tea. 

Sakusa was sitting in front of him, but his gaze (and his mind) was fixed over Kita’s shoulders, in the next room. That evening they had eaten a lot, and it was Atsumu’s turn to wash the dishes. Sometimes you could hear his complaints from the kitchen. 

They had started doing this ever since Atsumu had begun to invite him regularly to the house he shared with Kita: they divided things to do. The three of them.

Kita was very good in the kitchen, but usually Atsumu was the one cooking (he had learned to share his brother’s passion). Sometimes Sakusa glanced at him or approached him on the pretext of wanting to taste the food to make sure everything was good and that Atsumu was not trying to poison them all. Other times he offered to help. 

When Sakusa’s turn came he was never alone, probably the other two had understood that he didn't do well with the cutting board, with pans and pots and stoves (after all, gods do not need to eat). Kita emanated a calm and safe vibration as he taught him how to slice ingredients and prepare rice. But when Atsumu kept him company, he’d sit on the counter and watch him, and every once in a while he’d make fun of his obsession with cleanliness (because Sakusa had the habit of immediately washing everything he had finished using). Once he was done, he always decided to get up and lend him a hand.

"What do you mean?" 

"You know" 

Right at that moment Atsumu's umpteenth protest came to their ears "Omi, I’m sure it was yer turn today, you lied to me, didn’tcha?" 

If only Atsumu knew how many times Sakusa had lied to him... 

"Him" Kita confirmed. 

"He’s happy now" Sakusa allowed himself to be honest just because he knew Kita would understand, people like him always understood. 

"But are you?" 

"It doesn’t matter"

These words were echoes of a distant past, but they roared in his head with such intensity that they devastated him. Because now he understood how much courage it took to pronounce them. 

Kita smiled slightly "Once a person I care about told me that ya shouldn’t try to explain everything in a rational way. If you’re happy then you’re happy, that’s all" 

Sakusa closed his eyes "It’s not that easy" 

"It’s not even as hard as ya think" 

Sakusa looked right into those eyes that seemed to have seen so many things. 

"Tell me the truth, what’s stopping you from being happy?"

It was at that moment that Sakusa realized that he had deluded himself: he was convinced that the problem was his reality's incompatibility with Atsumu's one, he had lied to himself so much as to believe that time was his enemy. When it had always been his cowardice. 

Sakusa coexisted with the fear of forgetting. 

What would have happened if, once Sakusa had become mortal, he hadn't been able to find Atsumu in the same way he had found his brother? Would all his efforts matter if, in the end, Atsumu wouldn't have remembered him?

In order to find someone again you need a strong connection with them, but what tied Sakusa and Atsumu was more a thin sewing thread than a steady and strong rope. Sakusa was afraid that a single tug would be enough to break that fiber of lies and smoke that united them. That’s why, when they resumed their dance, Sakusa always looked at his own feet, for fear of accidentally stepping on Atsumu’s. 

But looking down for so long had made him neglect who was in front of him. 

"I can never be enough. Not for him"

He hadn't been enough to fill the void, he hadn't been enough to make Atsumu stay. Things wouldn’t change now. The beach they walked on was different, but they were the same. And they advanced one step at a time with the knowledge that they were strangers. 

Sakusa had never really known Atsumu. 

"Let him decide about that." 

"He can’t decide, he doesn’t know the truth" 

It hurt. 

It hurt so much that he thought he needed an extra breath. 

Sakusa wanted to know him, he wanted to know all the ways in which his eyes shone, all the curves of his lips (even the saddest ones), all the secrets of his hands.

Kita tilted his head "Let me tell ya that words are just one of the many means we use to communicate. Sometimes you can choose not to use them. Other times they are not even necessary" another sip "Show him your truth. Ya already know he won’t run away this time." 

_ How much longer are you going to hide inside your wounds?  _

"Kita-san" 

"Yes?" 

"You love him too, don’t you?" 

"It’s impossible not to" 

"So why are you giving me this advice?"

"Because I don’t love him the same way you do" 

(Not less, not more, just...not in the same way).

_ Maybe it’s time to let wounds heal. _

...

"Omi-kun" 

Sakusa recalled that, a long time ago, when he heard that nickname for what he thought last time, it had rained. Now the sky was of a blue that made the sea shine, the wind whispered words of life in their ears and the line that separates the realm of matter from that of abstraction had never been so thin. 

And Sakusa counted. 

Three: the months he spent twisting and turning his feelings around his fingers.

After the words he exchanged with Kita he had done nothing but draw time to himself, trying to embrace more and more of it and hoping that his arms wouldn't give up for how strong he was holding it. 

And he took the opportunity to watch. 

He observed Atsumu practice with the same consistency with which the sun rose every morning, he was attentive to the way the ball ran to meet his expert hands, he didn't allow himself to get distracted even a second when, finally, it collided with Atsumu's fingertips and he gently accompanied it toward the next point. It was incredible how impossible it was to read the intentions of those hands until they were revealed. But Sakusa was slowly learning how to do it.

He observed him when, in the middle of the night, he got up from the bed to lie down on the couch and read some magazines about volleyball, with a pair of round glasses that sat lazily on the back of his nose. Every time he yawned, tears of sleep prepared to slide down from his tired eyes, which kept closing and opening and closing again until he fell asleep. At that point Sakusa would descend to the earth and lay a blanket on his cold body. He knew it was cold because he had (accidentally) touched it more than once while covering it.

And he observed him when, during winter, he wrapped himself inside layers and layers of clothes as if they were the silk threads a caterpillar weaves around itself to give shape to a chrysalis. He followed him as he went to the beach, with the breeze messing up his hair and the sun, nearing sunset, in his eyes. In those moments he asked Hinata, his new colleague, to make that star shine a little more, to dye the sky of a thousand different shades. It was a selfish request, because Sakusa just wanted to have a clearer view to be able to see more carefully the freckles that adorned Atsumu’s cheeks. He wanted to stretch out his arm and caress them in the same way light was.

Because, if the sun shines differently, it does not cease to be the sun.

  
  


Two: souls that couldn’t disentangle themselves from the knot woven by fate. 

Sakusa had learned to dance. He was no longer afraid to step on Atsumu’s feet. Now he knew that, if it happened, Atsumu would smile and trample his feet in retaliation, and Sakusa would retaliate again, generating a new rhythm of their own, a motif within which only they knew how to move. Because this challenge was also a dance. Because fire can burn us, but our eyes are mesmerized by it, fire is dangerous, but we still reach out our hands towards it.

And Sakusa reached out his body towards Atsumu with the same tenacity with which moths approached light. But Sakusa was a god, now fearless and determined, aware that to see the stars you need darkness, and to see the way you need light. 

And if it is true that everything exists in function of its opposite, it is also true that fire exists to consume what generates it. Water extinguishes the flame, but it's the fuel that gives it colour and pulse. 

Perhaps the opposite of things is not what kills them, but what makes them more alive than ever, what makes them knowable.

In the same way the opposite of love isn't hate. 

In the same way the opposite of the sun isn't the moon. 

But still, in those moments Sakusa existed for Atsumu. 

And he wanted to learn everything about him. He wanted it every time the volleyball drew a arch between them when they warmed up doing sets, he wanted it when they walked together along a beach full of memories, he wanted it when Atsumu made him sit in front of him, ordered him to rest his palm on the wooden table that separated them and, carefully, without even touching him (because Sakusa was not ready), applied black nail polish on his fingernails - he said it was a good way to stop chewing on them since, at a certain point, Sakusa had started doing it,  _ what a typically human habit _ \- And Sakusa saw him bite softly at his tongue in concentration to avoid smudging the color, Sakusa abandoned his hand to the mercy of those of Atsumu. 

Because trust meant reaching out your hand and knowing that someone would grab it.

  
  


One: the syllable Sakusa pronounced every time Atsumu invited him to watch the sunset. 

He always had to say no. 

But this time it was different. This time he was forced to say no. 

Because Sakusa was tired of spending his existence hiding behind the closed door of rejection. But he still had a routine to follow, a routine he had already bent enough for a pair of brown eyes (maybe not enough, maybe never enough), he had a new sun to talk to, his moon to accompany high in the sky.

Every now and then he turned to Atsumu only to see that his gaze was turned towards it, the same look that he had once reserved to the earth. And he wondered, for a few fleeting seconds, if he too could hear his chest whispering throbbing prayers of closeness. 

"I can’t, I have to go" Sakusa told him every time. 

And in those moments Atsumu became a statue again. And his smile didn't reach his irises. 

_ Your lips have always been bad liars, _ Sakusa thought every time before he turned around.

…

Miya Atsumu had begun to believe that Sakusa Kiyoomi was a ghost.

It was the only explanation. Sakusa materialized from the underworld to walk beside him, to cook (rather mediocrely) in the kitchen he shared with Kita, to train with him in the late hours of day, when the moon was shining pale on a carpet of night and stars, looking at the earth as if it was dying to caress it.

It was just as he watched this scene that he realized he had never touched Sakusa. Still they had played together for a long time, in the intimacy of a field too small for their hunger. Still they had walked a lot.

But sand suffers from amnesia, and no matter how many steps they went on, they were erased from its memory.

They went forward forward forward, but Atsumu was standing still still still contemplating the curve of a nose covered by a mask. He knew what was underneath, he had seen the line of his lips several times, the small mole on the right side of his chin. But there was something wrong with the image he saw, as if Sakusa was the distorted version of something (someone) that Atsumu had known a long time ago.

"Omi-kun"

Sakusa did not respond immediately, his eyes lost beyond the ends of the earth. The sun was slowly finishing its descent into the sky. And Sakusa looked at it like he wasn’t afraid to go blind.

There was one thing Atsumu had noticed about Sakusa: he always left before sunset.

No matter how many times he asked him to stay, Sakusa always let his hand go (metaphorically, since Atsumu had no idea what it meant to touch that hand).

He had begun to wonder why Sakusa never lingered. But there was no answer. He had to be a spectre. Atsumu must have been cursed.

He knew it. He had felt it inside for as long as he could remember. As if something had been torn from his chest a long time ago, it was an emptiness that his heartbeats had always filled, but with Sakusa they staggered and Atsumu perceived it again, the infinite abyss. For some reason it tasted like rain. Like decadence.

Kita confirmed his suspicions when he told him "Don’t let him go, he’s more fragile than he looks" as if he had known him for millennia.

Sometimes even Kita seemed to be a supernatural being. But Atsumu had learned long ago that he was only a man, and that was where his dignity lay. Kita Shinsuke was the most deeply human person Atsumu had ever known.

On the contrary, Sakusa...well, he seemed to exist on a different level from that of ordinary people, there was something unusual about him, something that made Atsumu want to look at him, to listen to him, to touch something other than the idea of him.

"Omi-kun"

Sakusa then turned to him.

"Are ya a ghost, Omi-kun?"

He kept calling his name as if he could make Sakusa more concrete, as if naming the moon would make it closer to us.

For a second, just one, Sakusa’s eyes seemed guilty. It was difficult to be certain seeing only half of his face, but Atsumu had listened to him so much that he knew the language of his eyebrows, the lines of his forehead, the movements of his nose. Every once in a while, he deluded himself that he could understand even his breaths. But it was obviously an impression, because Sakusa was a ghost and ghosts have no need to cling to oxygen. Or so they say among mortals like him.

Sakusa’s tone was neutral when he said, "No. Why do you ask?"

Atsumu shrugged "It’s nothing, it’s just...we’ve known each other for months but- well none of my friends and not even my brother has ever seen ya, not with me or around here”

“Shinsuke saw me”

“I am under the impression that Shinsuke sees much more than anyone else sees”

Sakusa looked at him, almost impressed.

"Omi" a pause to let the words line up on the threshold of his mouth, to pray that they’d leave it in the right order "At some point I started to wonder if ya were real or just a figment of my imagination."

"Do I look like something that is not flesh and bone?" Sakusa didn’t seem upset at all by his statement, but neither amused. His irises shone with a faint light that vaguely reminded him of hope, but Atsumu couldn’t understand why.

Atsumu thought back to all those moments spent together, living in the distance that separated them: them sitting at a wooden table sipping the tea prepared by Kita, a kitchen a bit in disorder, black nail polish on pale nails (it was incredible, impossible, unthinkable that, even in a moment like, that they hadn’t been able to cancel the length of a breath between them. Yet it was true).

Atsumu saw a hint of a dimple, the beginning of a miracle that had been carried away by the wind, felt the warmth of a blanket resting gracefully on his semi-dormant body.

He remembered the first time he had cooked for Sakusa: he had to wash his hands twice (he had also decided to wash his forearms and -why not- also his teeth, to be sure). When he finished, he gave him an umeboshi onigiri, he was sure that the tips of their fingers had brushed but, thinking about it now, maybe it was just an impression.

"I don’t know, Omi-kun, I don’t think I’ve ever touched ya" he quietly confessed.

Sakusa tilted his head.

"Are you afraid your hand might go through me if you did?"

Atsumu chuckled "Probably"

A pause. Three four five beats.

"Do you want to do it?"

"What?"

"Touch me"

This time it was Atsumu who tilted his head. It took him a few more breaths to understand what Sakusa was asking him.

"Yes, I think I do." 

One

Two

Three

Waves that continued to crash on the beach, colliding the world of earth and that of water.

Four.

Five.

Six. 

Atsumu pinched Sakusa’s arm.

_ Good. I’m not crazy _ , he thought.

But there was something in the look Sakusa was giving him, his black black black pupils were offering a challenge. And Atsumu couldn’t say no to a challenge.

Sakusa’s skin was as cold as night.

Atsumu let his fingers wander a little along the moonlight path of his forearm, until he reached the wrist. The same wrist he had seen spiking his tosses without any hesitation, with blind confidence. There he stopped to drum to the rhythm of the harmonious notes of his heart. And he noticed that the song they were composing was full of pulsations, of vibrations that resonated on Atsumu’s fingertips.

There’s no sound more beautiful than life.

And it was in a moment of sweet bliss that Atsumu moved his other hand, lifting it up to Sakusa’s covered cheek, touching the soft skin exposed to the side of his face, making his fingers run on the thread that led behind his ear, tracing the outline of the latter and perceiving a feeling of heat propagating under his nails. He slowly slid his index finger under that thread that separated truth and desire. And he slowly removed that protective layer that, for those who seemed centuries, had prevented him from seeing the lunar craters on Sakusa’s cheeks, so shy that they could only be seen when he bent his mouth up in a smile.

"Is this what you hide behind the mask?" he asked "Chapped lips?"

In response, Sakusa let those lips open slightly, inviting him to cross the door of consent. Atsumu slowly dragged his thumb over dry, irregular dunes.

"Is that what you expected to see?" Sakusa’s mouth trembled against his finger.

_ No, but that’s exactly what I needed to see. _

"No" Atsumu shrugged "But at least it’s honest"


	3. Chapter 3

From that day on, their orbits gradually began to walk the path of collision. 

It started with fleeting touches: a nudge a little too casual to actually be casual, a hand that trembled a few millimeters from the other, a pat on the shoulder. 

And it is well known that where two roads meet, a crossroads is born. And at that point either you give way or you run at full speed straight towards another moving body causing an accident. 

Sakusa and Atsumu were close to impact. 

But can it really be called an accident if there was nothing accidental in the way neither of them intended to stop?

And so Sakusa helped Atsumu stretch his back after practice, Atsumu paused to caress the palm of his hand every time he painted his nails, Sakusa clung to him when they were on a bus full of people and he didn't want to touch the too dirty metal bars, Atsumu continued to reach out a hand towards him while assisting him in the kitchen. 

They started dancing again, and this time they looked each other in the eye. 

Their gestures were complementary. 

Like the sun and the moon, two faces of the same sky. 

"Atsumu" 

Atsumu had almost finished cooking onigiri for that night's dinner, Kita was out to take care of the fields, this time it was Sakusa sitting on the counter.

"Tell me everything, Omi"

Sakusa would never get tired of observing his profile, the curve of his nose, the dunes of his mouth, his long and dark eyelashes, a harmonious contrast with the blond of his hair. The concentration in his eyes, the way his shirt embraced his body, his nimble fingers. Atsumu. 

"Let me get a taste" 

Atsumu put the knife on the table, cut off the tip of the onigiri in his hand and headed towards him. Sakusa opened his mouth out of reflex. Atsumu placed that little ball of rice right on his tongue, his fingers touching his lips, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. 

"So? How is it?"

"It's Shinsuke's rice, we both know that there's no need to ask this question" 

Atsumu laughed. 

Sakusa swallowed. 

He was ready. 

"Atsum- 

"It’s going to rain, Omi-kun" 

"Huh?" 

"It’s going to rain" he said, looking out the window. Sakusa followed his gaze to the sky. And it was true. Black clouds were beginning to obscure his moon, his fellow stars. He wondered who the god of rain was playing with.

"I want to go for a walk" Atsumu whispered.

"But it’s almost time for dinner" 

"Come on Omi, indulge me for once" 

Sakusa rolled his eyes, took his jacket and followed him out the door, scolding him because he was coming out with clothes too light for that kind of weather. But Atsumu pretended not to hear him. 

The door slammed behind them at the same time as the first thunder shook the sky. 

... 

Atsumu didn't know why rain fascinated him so much. 

There was something surreal in the way the sky meets the earth when clouds cry all their tears.

Tears are often considered a sign of sadness, people let them fall at times when the rhythm of their heartbeats is no longer enough to remind them what it meant to be alive. Sometimes they were flooding rivers, quick, devastating, powerful. Other times they preferred to be lulled by gravity, sliding down on cold cheeks, reminding anyone who was crying them that they were there. 

There was something so strangely comforting in tears. In the taste of salt they have on the tongue. 

It was a taste that reminded him of the sea. 

And that was where Atsumu was dragging Sakusa. 

It was spring. The cold penetrated beyond the layer of epithelial tissue that protected him, made its way under the network of arteries and veins and capillaries to finally slip on the bones, causing chills that only the warmest of hugs could tame.

A hug…

Atsumu had the impression that, a long time ago, he had received one on a rainy day, but that was impossible. After all, it is well known that human memory tends to create images of things that have never happened. 

"You should have covered yourself more" Sakusa said. He had probably noticed that the hairs on Atsumu’s arms had risen. Sakusa noticed a lot of things. 

"Yes, I should've" he smiled. 

There was a high probability that Atsumu would wake up the next day with a cold or a fever, but it didn’t matter. Because in that moment he was feeling everything. And it was perfect.

And he continued to smile when the first drop landed on his nose, then one on the back of the hand he had lifted to chase it away, one next to the crook of his elbow.

And the sky composed its symphony using the earth as sheet music. 

Atsumu turned to Sakusa to look him in the eye, to see if he was listening too. And he saw lightning strike the horizon line, he saw it reflected in Sakusa’s irises. 

"Omi" he whispered, because he knew Sakusa would hear him. Sakusa always heard him. 

"Hmm?" 

"How long have we known each other?" 

"Three months" 

A flash. 

A thunder.

"Ya always tell so many lies" 

At that point Sakusa looked at him as if Atsumu had just stabbed him. 

"You know, Omi, at first I was under the impression that ya were lying to me all the time, then you just started not telling the truth." 

He saw Sakusa’s chest rise. 

His pupils dilate. 

The rain continued to shatter on the surface of the sea. Water on water. 

Because if it weren’t the beach that wiped out their footprints, the clouds would do it. 

The same clouds that, right at that moment, began to move slightly, revealing a wonderful moon. 

It was full.

It was huge, bigger than it used to be. 

And it was red. 

Atsumu was able to see the vague outlines of its craters, the shades of orange and bronze and carmine of its skin, its dim but steady glow in the storm. 

And he found himself speechless. 

"Atsumu" 

"Kiyoomi" 

At some point Sakusa had taken off his mask, because now Atsumu could clearly see the expression of his face, pale in contrast to the colors of the celestial body behind him. 

The moon framed his head like a halo.

And Atsumu felt the need to inhale this image inside his lungs, he could have lived with just that. 

The rain lined Sakusa’s face in all the right places and moonlight illuminated the wet traces that the drops had left on his cheeks.

The rain crept into the fissure between his lips, parted in contemplation of that apparition in front of him. 

A flash. 

A thunder. 

"The moon is beautiful tonight" 

... 

Sakusa could no longer tell if those that flowed on his face were drops of rain or tears. 

Atsumu knew. Atsumu understood. Atsumu remembered.

Atsumu couldn’t say something like that and expect the moon not to tremble in the sky. 

And Sakusa thought that if Atsumu couldn’t love him forever, he’d be content with just a lifetime. 

It probably wouldn’t have been enough. 

But it was fine. 

Because on earth one life was never enough. 

"Would you like to kiss these chapped lips of mine?" 

The question slipped out of his mouth before he could process the thought of it in his mind. It was as honest as the sun, as fearless as fire, as palpitating as the heart that had uttered it. 

And, in that moment, Atsumu had that heart in his hands.

He could have torn it to pieces. It wasn't like Sakusa needed it anyway. 

Also, no one would hear the sound of its falling fragments in contact with the sand in the middle of the spring rain. 

But his chest kept screaming silent prayers of acceptance.  _ Take it, it’s yours. But don’t break it, please don’t break it _ . 

Meanwhile, Atsumu stood still. 

Sakusa kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Right, left. Left, right. 

Right. 

"Omi-kun" 

Left. 

"Yes, I'd like to do it" 

Left. 

Right.

"Is it, by any chance, that you want to do that..." 

Right.

"...like now?" 

Left. 

"Yes, I want to" 

And then stop. 

One two steps and Atsumu was so close he filled the empty space in front of him, his chin slightly raised to look Sakusa in the eye. 

Sakusa felt the caress of his breath on his neck, the intensity of his gaze that kept moving slowly from his irises to his lips, the ticking of rain against his skin that kept reminding him that it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a dream.

Maybe wishes weren’t deceit after all. 

"I trust ya with this, Omi. Be honest" 

It was quick, so quick that, if all of Sakusa’s senses hadn't been alert, he would have missed it, but Atsumu’s tongue licked the corner of his mouth, just below his lower lip, a millisecond before their pieces met. 

It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a song, a dance, a hug. 

It was a fusion of breaths, hands that began to venture into places where they never thought they could venture, whispers and sounds and caresses. 

It was art.

_ This _ , Sakusa thought,  _ this is worth giving up eternal life for. _

... 

Sakusa told him everything. 

He didn't leave out even the tiniest splinter of truth. 

He told him of his brother, of a solitary star, of eyes lost beyond infinity itself. He spoke of ruins, of goodbyes, of sunsets and sunrises. He confessed sins, lies, desires. 

From that second on, it would only be a matter of time before the major gods found out about it, maybe he could get away with it for a week if he convinced the wind god, Komori, not to spill anything. Maybe. 

He was ready to fall. 

_ I was attracted to your light, and now I’m in love with your fire. _

Silence. 

Endless silence. 

Deep silence. 

"I think I loved you too" 

Breaths. 

Deep breaths. 

Long breaths. 

"How can you say that? You don’t remember anything" 

Memories. 

Houses of memories. 

Newly born memories. 

"How could I have said no to a love like yours?" 

Salvation. 

Liberation. 

Reconciliation. 

It was all there in front of him. 

Maybe infinity wouldn’t be so bad if Atsumu were the one to let him touch it.

…

It was Kita's turn to cook that evening. 

But the moment Sakusa and Atsumu saw him set foot in the house, they realized he had to be pretty exhausted. 

Some days working at the farm was really tiring. Atsumu knew this because, since the day he met him, he had offered to help Kita with his fields. Then Sakusa had arrived, and with him more arms ready to help. 

The three of them were a well-oiled mechanism. And they worked so well together. 

But sometimes, for the sake of the crops, it was better that Kita did certain work alone. And that afternoon had been one of those times.

When Kita lifted up his head to greet them, neither of them missed his weary eyes. It was for this reason that Atsumu approached him, put his hands on his shoulders and gently massaged his sore muscles. 

Meanwhile Sakusa went to the kitchen, ready to prepare dinner for the second day in a row. 

They ate surrounded by a halo of relaxed silence. 

When they finished, Kita insisted on washing the dishes, but Sakusa and Atsumu pretended not to hear him, preferring to accompany him to the sofa where they used to spend evenings. 

Usually Atsumu was the one in the middle, but this time they made an exception for Kita. They turned on the television more to have white noise in the background than to watch it.

Sakusa offered Kita a shoulder to lean his head on. At the same time, Atsumu began to trace forms on the back of his head that could vaguely recall circles. 

It was a matter of minutes before Atsumu whispered "He’s asleep" 

For a while they let Kita rest, because he deserved it. But they didn’t want that position to cause him any pain in the neck, so they decided to wake him up: Sakusa gently shook his arm which, probably, had fallen asleep and Kita opened his eyes, seemed confused for two or three seconds. Then he smiled a light smile, one that could have been woven by wind threads. He ruffled Sakusa’s hair and touched Atsumu’s forearm before saying good night to both of them.

Then Sakusa got up to do the dishes. 

Atsumu sat on the counter behind him, his legs dangling in the small void separating his feet from the floor. 

"Aren’t you going to give me a hand?" 

"Nah" 

Those were the last days Sakusa would spend with him, with them. Better to make him work for a while longer before saying goodbye. 

For some reason Atsumu thought of ruins. 

In his mind, temples were built, filled with life, and then slowly collapsed, producing a thud whose echoes vibrated in the spaces between the strings of time. And that beautiful building full of light became nothing but shadows.

And everyone forgot. 

"Omi...we’ll meet again, won’t we?" 

Sakusa finished drying the last remaining glass before answering "Yes. Do you have any doubts?" 

Atsumu closed his eyes, licked his lips. He was ready to forget. 

"No. No doubt" 

Sakusa cancelled the distance between them, placing himself between his legs. Atsumu felt the warmth of that body propagating beyond the barriers of clothing that stood between them, even beyond the gates of his skin.

Atsumu wrapped him in a double embrace of limbs, encircling his waist with his thighs, slightly tightening the grip to feel the muscles of Sakusa’s hips shift under him, and then he let his arms surround his back, resting his head on his shoulder and breathing in, inhaling that typical Sakusa smell, impossible to describe with human alphabets. 

He left a path of gentle kisses along the collar line of the shirt Sakusa was wearing, emitting a slight groan of pleasure when the other's hands moved on his hair, massaging his scalp. 

Atsumu lifted his chin slightly, opened his mouth, prepared to meet Sakusa’s.

And their kiss was slow, so slow, incredibly slow. 

It was destruction and creation and all the nuances of life between the two.

Sakusa was kissing him like he was playing with sunlight on his lips. And Atsumu kissed him back as if moonlight was the only thing he was certain of. 

And while he slipped his fingers up under the fabric of Sakusa’s shirt he thought  _ it’s skin, it’s just skin.  _

_ It’s his skin. _

And he caressed it like it was infinite. 

Fingertips that danced on the lines of his back, nails that lingered all over the places where muscle contorted under them. And Sakusa did the same with the back of his head, tracing the beats of Atsumu’s heart with his thumbs, then moving towards his jaw, his cheeks.

And Atsumu had started believing in love. 

It was tied to the essence of immensity. Maybe someone like him could understand. 

"Atsumu" 

"Mh?" 

"Bed" 

"Carry me" he whispered lazily on his lips.

But when Sakusa laid his hands on Atsumu’s thighs to lift him up, he distracted himself a little by letting his fingers walk the fabric streets of his shorts, descending down towards the hem that marked the border with flesh. 

"Omi" 

Sakusa’s digits enjoyed drawing imaginary lines and arches among the freckles that adorned his thighs in the same way that the night sky adorned Sakusa’s skin.

_ It's his skin.  _

"Mhh Omi" this time he said his name just for the pleasure of saying it, to feel it on his tongue. 

Then Sakusa moved his arms and suddenly Atsumu found himself clinging to him. 

"Where are we going?" Atsumu asked when he saw the direction in which Sakusa had turned. 

"Your room" 

Atsumu leaned his head on his shoulder "No. Shin is sleeping" 

"But my room is upstairs" 

"It means ya’ll take us upstairs" he whispered next to his ear, and Sakusa stiffened. Atsumu smiled.

"Or you could walk with these pretty legs of yours" he countered, but he started moving towards the stairs.

"Ya like my legs, Omi? My thighs?" he licked the soft skin on the side of his neck. He stroked the back of his neck, dwelling on the first vertebrae that he felt under his fingers, tracing its hills and valleys, enjoying the way Sakusa trembled under his touch “D’ya wanna see what they can do?”

Sakusa swallowed. Atsumu chased his Adam's apple down his throat. 

"You’re too heavy" Sakusa tried to divert his attention by complaining, but he was starting to climb the first steps. 

"But you’re literally a god, don’tcha have, like, super strength or something?" he chuckled as he rubbed the tip of his nose against the crook of his shoulder. 

"Shut up if you don’t want us to fall"

Atsumu approached his lips to his earlobe and bit down "But we already did" 

Sakusa stopped, paralyzed. 

Atsumu tasted the heat that was spreading on Sakusa’s neck. He was tempted to lift his head to see if his cheeks were red too, but he didn't, too comfortable in the position he was in. 

It was inebriating.

Atsumu loved all of this. 

"Kiyoomi" he whispered, lips strolling on the edge of his ear "I love you" 

It was quick. Just a movement and Atsumu’s back was against the wall. It was cold, but it wasn't that to cause the chills that ran through his spine.

There was some kind of twisted satisfaction in knowing he had managed to make Sakusa surrender his self-control before reaching the top of the stairs. He grinned. 

Sakusa’s body was pressed against his to form a single puzzle piece, his hands still on his backside, his mouth now on Atsumu's, as if it were its only desire. 

Sakusa emitted a sound halfway between pleasure and ecstasy when Atsumu’s tongue passed through the door of his chapped lips to meet Sakusa’s. Something in his stomach melted. 

Atsumu adored the way Sakusa gently bit his cheek ("Ouch, Omi") and kissed a path along the perimeter of his jawline, until he reached the chin, the neck, the shoulder.

And Atsumu hugged him.

And they kissed again

and again

and again

Until all that was left of them were vibrations.

…

Somehow they reached the bed, falling on it in a way as clumsy and messy as it was tender and intimate. 

Sakusa couldn’t help himself. Not when Atsumu looked like that, not when his voice echoed from the tip of his ear to his whole being, not when he said 

"I love you" Sakusa murmured as Atsumu tried to take off his shirt. 

"I love you" he repeated when Atsumu brushed his forehead with his lips. 

"I love you" he whispered again before colliding with Atsumu’s lips again. 

Because it was too much and not enough. Never enough. Not with Atsumu.

And he trembled when his fingers began to trace the lines of his chest, when they lingered on his nipples, when they held one of them between thumb and middle finger and made a moaning and sobbing mess out of Sakusa. 

Atsumu was touching him as if he weren’t just touching his body, but something deeper, more intimate, something directly intertwined with the essence of immortality, something limitless. 

Because if infinity was empty then it meant that it was possible to fill it. And Sakusa would fill it with life, with the sound of his frantic beats when Atsumu kissed the skin shell that could barely restrain his heart, with colors that had never seemed so bright, with that scent of love that only Atsumu had.

Eternity was overrated.

"Tsumu"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to be slow. I want to feel everything"

Now Atsumu was kissing his bare back, vertebra after vertebra, valley after valley, mole after mole. Sakusa was sure he was tasting every single one of his shivers.

Atsumu rubbed his thumbs on his shoulders, down his torso, nails leaving red trails on the sides of his stomach. He massaged his shoulder blades, the base of his spine, the back of his hips.

And Sakusa had never felt the force of life as intensely as in that moment. 

Atsumu turned him around, straddled him again, and he kept biting marks on his body, identifying all the most sensitive areas of him, painting a picture made of galaxies and stardust on the canvas of his moonlight skin.

And Sakusa eagerly reciprocated, bringing Atsumu as close to him as it was humanly allowed, kissing a body that had already been kissed by the sun, chasing every single freckle: on his nose, on his cheeks, on his thighs. 

He lingered there. Because it was impossible not to. Because he wanted as he had never wanted before. Because every single one of Atsumu's soft groans made him crave for more. 

Atsumu ran his nails along the entire length of Sakusa’s arm, causing it to tremble at every point of contact. 

"Omi-kun" Atsumu left caresses that tasted of wind on his hip, and Sakusa couldn't stop the spasm that spread throughout his being.

"Sensitive skin, huh?" Atsumu had the audacity to grin and, in that exact second, Sakusa noticed that his eyes were completely black and oh if he didn’t love to be the cause of that eclipse. 

It wasn’t long before Sakusa gave in to his own moans. 

Atsumu removed the arm that Sakusa had placed on his own face to cover his expression. Slowly. He lowered their hands on the sheets and intertwined their fingers, without losing the opportunity to caress his wrist, palm, fingertips, knuckles. The other hand kept drawing abstract paintings on his heart. 

Because love meant reaching out your hand and having the certainty that someone would hold it.

"How is it?" Atsumu asked. 

"Warm" 

Atsumu continued to tease him, biting his neck, licking stripes that followed the pulsations of his veins, sinking his teeth right where Sakusa felt most exposed. 

Sakusa surrendered when Atsumu froze for a second, a single excruciatingly long second "Don’t stop. If you stop now I could die" 

At that point Atsumu’s tongue slid again next to his ear, because he knew that Sakusa would never tire of hearing the low and deep and provocative tone of his voice, and he liked to use this knowledge to torture him.

"Liar" he whispered. 

Sakusa inhaled sharply, his back arched coming to contact with this truth. 

And immortals knew neither birth nor death, but it was possible to teach them life. 

This time they met in the middle of the same breath. 

And Sakusa drank his name from Atsumu’s lips the same way gods drank their nectar. 

"Tsumu- Atsum- Aatsu- Tsu- Atsu-

Until his name became an incomprehensible amalgam of sounds, until not even vibrations were enough to describe that feeling. 

Atsumu’s hands were placed on the back of his head as if to say 'it's all right, everything's all right, I’m here' and his fingers began to dance with the curls of his hair following a rhythm dictated by his breaths. 

And Atsumu lulled him gently. 

Because Atsumu’s affection was loud. 

But his love was ultimately quiet. 

And quiet was the moment when all of Sakusa’s threads came unraveled, leaving him alone with the syllables of a prayer that had the same shape of a name on his lips.

And Sakusa's void was finally full of boundless bliss. 

Outside the window, the moon had never been so radiant. 

... 

And then they forgot.

...

The sun was rising beyond the line that separates two realms not so different from each other. 

And the moon trembled and started fading slowly, waiting to vanish. 

The last stars of morning began to say goodby to the sky. 

Miya Atsumu walked quietly on a deserted beach. He listened to the murmur of waves, felt them shattering against his ankles, while his feet left footprints that weren't meant to last more than a few seconds. 

But Atsumu kept going. 

Because what was life if not a walk. 

It was summer, but it was still early enough not to feel the heat penetrate bones to melt them.

Atsumu couldn't look at the sun.

Every time he did it, he felt a grip on his chest so strong that it left him breathless. 

He had been dragging Kita with him for a while, because, if he weren't alone, it was easier to quietly witness twilight. 

But Kita couldn’t always say yes. 

In the distance, Atsumu distinguished a dark figure advancing lazily in his direction. 

He wondered if that other person had the courage to look at dawn in the eye. Atsumu imagined they had. Not everyone was a coward like him. 

Meanwhile, the breeze blew through the threads of his hair, rippling the surface of clear water, making the reflections of rising light stagger on it. 

And Atsumu breathed in.

One step after the other, he let the air fill the chasm that - footprint after footprint erased by a ruthless ocean- had opened between his lungs, right in the area where the most honest and alive part of him was located. 

He looked up to find that mysterious figure he had seen just before, as if he had expected not to see it again now that the sun had risen and was beginning its slow ascent to the dome of the firmament. 

But it was still there. Now that the distance had decreased, Atsumu was able to see the profile of a boy, probably slightly taller than him, his hair was black. Atsumu wondered why he was walking. Was he also looking for something in all the places where he had already searched a thousand times?

Did he also mourn the light, but was too afraid to reach out to it? 

Or maybe he was just a student - probably a college student - desperate, Atsumu had heard that their sleep schedules were rather mediocre. Who knows how he would have reacted if he had asked him... 

And, lost in these thoughts, he didn't realize that the guy was right in front of him. Now he perfectly saw the shape of his dark (but not black) eyes, the two moles over his right eyebrow (one under the other), the black nail polish on his hands (the skin a little red, probably from nervous bites). And the mask he was wearing. He wondered what was underneath it. 

He thought he would never find out.

He thought he wanted to find out. 

He thought he knew. 

And within him a voice whispered  _ I've been looking for you _ . 

Their eyes crossed. 

And Atsumu was desperate to say, to know, to ask

"Will you be here to watch sunset tonight?" the stranger spoke. 

"Yes" he murmured, and his lips bent up in a smile. 

Then both of them kept walking their own path. 

(Because, sometimes, love also meant letting someone's hand go, knowing you will be able to find it again)

…

"Do you want to go for a swim, Atsumu?"

"Yes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRRRRR THANK YOU ALL FOR READING THIS PRODUCT OF A MONTH OF STRUGGLES, REALLY I AM SO SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT THISVJNFDNREGJNGREJBJRDVB   
> THAT BEING SAID feel free to leave a comment to tell me if you enjoyed or your fav line or whatever you want.  
> NOW THAT I HAVE FINALLY POSTED THE WHOLE FIC I NO LONGER HAVE ANY EXCUSE TO PROCRASTINATE MY STUDIES, I HATE IT HERE BUT IG I SHOULD START STUDYING AT SOME POINT AHAH  
> THANK YOU AGAIN, REALLY  
> ((feel also free to scream at me on twitter @nonlovso))

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this first chapter :)  
> I hope you enjoyed and, if you did, feel free to leave a comment, they keep me going  
> I'll update this fic soon I swear, see y'all next time


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